Consanguineous Malfunction
by Verdigurl
Summary: Fate had different cards to play, than the previous hand. Now, I am regretless. Now, I kill. Alt Universe to "My Fate is Certainly Uncertain." OC. No Pairings. Rated T.
1. Prologue

**Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

**Consanguineous Malfunction **

**Prologue**

**Overall Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood and Oc-ness.**

**[Written to: Missing - Evanescence ]**

**XXXX**

"_Things aren't like this," he kept repeating. "It shouldn't be this way." As if he had access to some other plane of existence, some parallel, "right" universe, and had sensed that our time had somehow been put out of joint. Such was his vehemence that I found myself believing him, believing, for example, in the possibility of that other life in which Vina had never left and we were making our lives together, all three of us, ascending together to the stars. Then he shook his head, and the spell broke. He opened his eyes, grinning ruefully. As if he knew his thoughts had infected mine. As if he knew his power. "Better get on with it," he said. "Make do with what there is."_

― _Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet_

**XXXX**

I think the most peaceful time of the day is that moment when you're in the emerging haze, you know, the one you're not conscious about until you realize where you were and where you are now. That first breath in, barging through the morning's blocked nose, the way your back and wrists _click_ into place. And in that small moment, it was warm and I so dearly wished that I could remain here and dream of the normal - or sometimes abnormal - things. But the strange ones were the best, the most memorable.

And I was so certain that this day was all a dream.

But dreams stop.

This,

this did not.

**XXXX**

As I sat in the last class of the day, english, my mind began to wander tiredly, my ears drowning out the sound of the teacher, her hand tapping on the whiteboard, going on about the symbolism inside mirrors; something to do with the film we were going to watch. I'd already seen the movie, and it wasn't too bad. I actually enjoyed some parts of it, but I had the feeling that after this, I'd be sick of it. I hated to over analyse pop culture and dig out _meanings_ when there were none.

My feet were slightly wet because of how crap my shoes were. My uniform - thankfully - stayed dry as I walked home; meaning that I didn't have to put it in the hot water cupboard. Mason's soccer boots were in there too, and I didn't want them to smell of mud and sweat.

There was no-one home when I got there. I didn't see Mum's classic, sleek black car in the driveway, or two pairs of shoes at the foot of the door.

_Strange,_ I thought, as I took of my own and lazily dropped my bag on the ground next to them. _Where is everybody?_

"Al?" I called, blinking. I checked the kitchen, and his food bowl, but he wasn't here either.

_Where is that blasted cat?_

My fingers trailed across the walls as I wandered down the hallway, to the stairs. I could hear the shower going.

"Mum?"

I was only met with the reverberating call of my voice, and the sound of the low hum that accompanied the pitter patters of sprinkling water. I sighed, my head shaking, and climbed up the staircase, one hand on the guard rail. As I reached the top, I walked to the bathroom and opened the door.

Gave Mum one hell of a fright.

"_Phillipa!_" She growled, her teeth baring as she turned to look at me, still washing herself clean with some soap and a luffa. Her blond hair had darkened from the moisture and I smiled slightly.

"Sorry." I apologised quietly, still standing there.

Mum sighed loudly and rinsed her hair, rubbing her face. Her back was turned to me. "What's the matter with you, walking in on a shower?"

"I didn't see any shoes at the door, so I was just checking."

She turned to look at me, her eyes the mirror image of my own thinning slightly, but without malice. I could hear what she was thinking, but I didn't need to read her mind to know what she thought of me.

_Love you babygirl._

"I love you too, Mum."

Thick, watered down specks sprayed from her head as frightening_ bang_ riddled in my eardrums, the weight of her body slipping in the tub, her head loudly cracking against the rim. My hands immediately covered my ears, the pain, the ringing almost too much for me to stay silent.

A horrid gargle came out as an arm wrapped from behind, around my neck and dragged my whole body down the hallway. My feet dragged, and I could hardly fight against him. Another man - it had to be, they didn't think, or smell like women - he ran past and into the bathroom. His black trenchcoat disappeared from my sight.

_Fucking hell! No no no, no!_

I rammed my heels into the floor and pushed with my back, with all my strength. The sudden rage I felt boiling rung out in the air as the two of us broke the wooden banister railings at the top of the stairs, myself landing on him as we tumbled to the first floor, a satisfying yelp coming from him.

Upstairs, two more shots were fired, and I stumbled up, the man's hand suddenly gripping tight of my ankle.

"Get the fuck off me!" I yelled, kicking him in the head as he pulled harder. My balance remained unsettled as the man on the second floor caught a whiff of what was happening, and threw himself down. I struggled when he grabbed my elbows, hollering _"get off me!"_ to no avail or pity or care.

A quick thrusting punch to the stomach, and a fist full of hair that rammed my head into the wall and I was out.

Out like a light.

**XXXX**

**So, this happened. Hi, for all of you who don't know me, I'm Verdigurl, the author. Nice to meet y'all's faces. So, I haven't actually written anything or read a lot of Katekyo hitman reborn as of late and I was beginning to miss it. I was walking home from uni when I had this idea, and I might explain now to those who don't know, but this is a kinda sequel/alternate reality to a previous story of mine called "My Fate is Certainly Uncertain." If you want to know what the fudge is happening with this story and some of the things that get mentioned, I recommend that you read it, but I don't fully force you to, since this might actually work if you do or don't. So here you go.**

**So, clarification on a couple of things, not spoilers, but guys, avert ye gazes.**

**- Alternate universe? Yes.**

**- Yes, Al is in the story to.**

**- Yes, Reborn did call, but he has not met Phillipa, nor her mother.**

**- Where's Mason? Not here, obviously. But in the story, yes.**

**Any other inquiries, feel free to interrogate me. I'm pretty good at giving out cryptic messages.**

**- Verdigurl**


	2. (C1) Wandering Deviation

**Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

**Consanguineous Malfunction **

**Chapter One: Wandering Deviation**

**Overall Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood and Oc-ness.**

**[Written to: Defying Gravity - Kerry Ellis - Rock Version ]**

**XXXX**

This darkness was cramped and unwelcoming. Arm pinned to the side, legs curled up to my chest, the sound of a loud hum of the motor of an airplane rumbling all through the time that I spent hunched. It gave me a headache, to keep my eyes open, but I couldn't fall asleep, or move around at all. They felt heavy, but not welcome to the peaceful numbness of the action. I didn't want to, out of fear, out of the growing pain in my gut that something was terribly wrong. Of course it was, my mother was _killed._ Taken away and _killed._ I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want to remember that puke-inducing _crack_ or the unknowing feeling that jabbed the back of my mind.

I missed my mother. And I had no idea where my brother was. I had no sense of the ground or to what this was about. My mother, she was a very private person, but she had her reasons. Death. Numbness. Those types of things should be a habit to glance over by now, not something that still stings me. Of course my family wasn't normal and of course everybody has their own bloody secrets but ours we're meant to take to the grave. Fuck, Mason didn't even know about it and I shouldn't have either, but I did, thanks to my mother. She'd come home late, sleep through the day, make sure the bills were paid and every couple of months we'd move house again. _Protection_, she said.

I can see why now. Quite ironic though, the assassin being assassinated.

The job was one of chance, I remembered my mother saying, when we had just finished moving into the new house in Michigan. My brother was asleep, feeling excited for a new day at a new school and the two of us sat at the kitchen counter, drinking whatever was available. They had a farmers market on, so we had - for the first time in a while - fresh fruit to eat. It would be gone by the next morning, because once she explained to me fully the details of what her job is, I was too afraid to sleep. And I didn't ask her about my father, because I feared about how she would react. She freaked over simple letters, simple phone calls and every time we moved it felt like I was being uprooted again. This led to the worst social life I could possibly have had, along with the stress of looking after my brother, and protecting him. She herself made me so paranoid and anxious.

And I couldn't hear any voices around me with the blasted engine running. I was too afraid to try to escape.

**XXXX**

There's a saying that's been going around and I keep thinking back to it.

_For every wrong you have in a day, think of two good things._

And I found it very irritating, because it came from the over joyous people. Their image was so perfect in my mind and what irked me was what I couldn't picture. That I _couldn't_ find one, let alone more, good things to say, because I wasn't the type of person to get happy. Because I couldn't hold onto relationships, even ones with my own family, I found it so difficult to allow myself, and I don't know why I had to seek some sort of permission or signal. It was stupid, _I_ was very stupid to even get into this mess. But it wasn't like I could get _out_ of this god forsaken mess. It just so happened that my kidnappers were smart cookies to tie me up, as well as blindfolded and gag me. They went so far as to put those construction earmuffs over my ears, and I found that to be disorientating, to say the least.

The only thing I could do was hear what they were thinking and feel what I could with my hands. They weren't much use though, since they were tied behind my back; legs tightly knotted together like a christmas gift. My gut lurched and I was thrown over someone's shoulder, my breath escaping, making it harder to concentrate. My head was a mess, and I heard the slamming of a car bonnet.

I didn't know how long it had been, only that my stomach was growling and the uniform that I still wore, raincoat and all, was inappropriate for the weather. I felt too hot, too stuffy and I heard a ding, and air conditioning. And never in my entire life have I ever felt motion sickness, not in a plane nor a car, but here was a first.

How clean the room was when they took the blindfold off was blinding. The walls were covered in large white tiles, furnished with only a bed and a sink in the corner, pipes underneath the basin leading into the wall, where holes were carved into the tiles. They dumped me on the mattress, and took of everything - including clothes.

"Here." The man gruffly ordered, chucking some folded hospital clothes into my lap. They smelt clean enough - too clean, I hear, my stomach flipping - and I sat there, red faced, not making eye contact.

"Get changed and stay quiet."

Quiet I was and quiet it was, the atmosphere. The tiled door fizzed shut, as if out of a sci-fi movie and once dressed, the lights went out. My stomach was doing flips, and I sat there in the dark for a while, eyes closed, stomach unsettled. My toes curled as fingers gripped onto the bed, held onto _something._ The sense of having my feet planted on the ground made the back of my legs tingle with an uneasy anticipation.

They couldn't keep me in here forever.

**XXXX**

"Name."

I did not answer.

"Age."

I did not answer. Kept me eyes glued to the table, and never to the man who sat across from me. My tongue was clamped between my teeth and I sat there, breathing in. I wasn't about to give up.

_Stupid girl, doesn't know when to quit._

The man, gray stubble, dark rimmed glasses and a coffee in the right hand, was surely getting frustrated. Small giveaways, nothing harsh to say. I think he was ordered to keep calm, by whoever was keeping me here. Bombastic as my stomach was, I was determined. Or, I hoped I could last. Food, I could live without, for now, maybe a week at the most, but I needed water, badly. You could only go so long without it, before your head starts clogging and your body shuts down. And on the opposite side of the scale, take too much water, you could kill yourself as well, but unfortunately, that one wasn't an option. And that coffee - despite me actually hating the taste - smelt all too alluring.

_No,_ I told myself, as I felt the slow creeping of a headache approaching. Slow, then like the hull of a ship, crashing against multiple waves. I closed my eyes a few times, feeling the pulsing pain, and the man sighed, getting out of his seat, and leaving the room.

I rubbed my face into my hands, and moaned out, worried and tired,

_Where the fuck am I?_

**XXXX**

I was thrown into a larger room, a more cavernous one with a high ceiling and concrete floors. I could feel them watching, though no cameras were visible. I suspected that there were some one-way tiles, where you could see into the room, but not out of it. I'm also pretty darn sure that they did that to the room of mine. That man before, I heard things. Disturbing things.

In, from the side, came a man whose coat collar covered half of his face, his nose poking out the front, but not by far. The way that he talked gave off vicious vibes, and the way he stared added to my nerves. He was smiling, though I couldn't see it. His face had predominantly asian features, and the skin around his eyes didn't crinkle. I could see him smiling in his own mind, and that was scary.

I stood up, too fast because my vision blurred, and I ended up leaning on the wall for support. He looked at me with predator eyes, and his voice spoke deeply, likened to a bass guitar, a subtle G major. Haunting and rhythmic.

"Stand up straight, Miss Marsh."

_How the hell….?_

As my face contorted, he read emotions like I did, faster than reading a book, or analysing a crossword. It was a natural ability, and this tiredness that was getting to me - day ten, I think, without water. I didn't trust what came out of the sink in my room and I could tell when they gave me food, that nothing was safe. I almost got injected with some sort of whacko serum, if I hadn't woken up in time to kick the ass out of that supposed doctor/scientist/crazy buffon.

"For someone who's meant to be the daughter of a world famous assassin, you sure are shitting yourself." He blinked with callus, taking two steps. My back straightened, and with a hand on the wall, I stepped backwards. "You'd expect more out of a donkey?"

With every beat of my heart, I felt it hard to breathe.

"It wasn't my passion." I spat, the space between him and I thinning.

"It will be." He told me.

"No." I puckered, shaking my head.

"It will be, you don't have a choice."

"No, I _refuse._"

He made a sound, which was similar to a happy sigh, though I don't know why he'd be elated in a situation like this. Even if I was at the other side of the receiving stick, I wouldn't smile, or joke. But I realised that he wasn't joking.

"I'm going to break you. And break you again, until you can learn to be free. And until then, you're _my bitch."_

**XXXX**

And it was just like closing your eyes, if only for a second, like it should have been. The food was all that I had and I couldn't help myself. There was soup and some processed cheese, and hot chocolate. To think I was brought down by a sweet drink that stroked the inside of my throat, I was taken by it; each night they'd add a cup to the dinner tray and I could see my reflection in the spoon. Thin fingers coiled around the handle. First time in weeks, months, maybe even longer! - they didn't allow mirrors where I was being kept. I saw the distortion of a broken girl.

I felt limited.

And very, very lonely.

**XXXX**

Each week, or two it seemed - it kept changing, the timeframe - there would be a group session. I was quick to realise I wasn't the only captive. There were others, so lean, some clean, some vile and some who'd given up on ever getting out, their eyes as milky as mine.

They called us to fight and we left broken bones and broken souls. Blood always dribbled to ground, whenever I fought, and it just happened. Something clicked.

"Kill him." Barthom egged. He always stood on the sidelines, strong like a mercenary. Hands linked at the back, eyes always on the entertainment. He always had a sharp bluntness about him, just like him spine, and his fist if you got too close. With teeth bared I grabbed the boy, his head crying out - "_God save me, please God save me!_" - repeating and repeating and _BAM!_

The boy's body wriggled on the ground as he attempted with his legs to throttle my neck. I sat on his back, one bare foot holding the base of one arm, pulling the other back into an almost ripping position. I'd done that before, ripped someone's arm back. I myself, have actually had several broken bones. Dislocated ones, but never really _detached_ skin from skin, muscle from bone.

"_Stop!"_ He screeched, his screams rebounding off the tiled walls.

I wonder how that feels.

**XXXX**.

**Hey there again! Hope everyone is sort of warm, and not like me where I'm freezing. Anywho, I hoped you liked this chapter. The positive responses have been lovely, and I've enjoyed seeing some familiar name tags. Thanks to everyone who has followed and faved. Phillipa will definitely be more, **_**persuasive**_** in fighting situations, I predict.**

**Replies:**

**Viper's Girl: When I think about it now, it totally could, and there is some stuff in this story that I think might clarify some things in the previous story that were left untouched. And, Al will be later in the story. :D**

**natachoco: Thanks! Gotta ask though, is your penname like a combo of nachos and chocolate? I've always wondered….**

**Alright, toodaloo**

**- Verdigurl.**


	3. (C2) Blue-64

**XXXX**

**Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

**Consanguineous Malfunction **

**Chapter Two: Blue-64**

**Overall Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood and Oc-ness.**

**[Written to: Sweet Sacrifice - Evanescence ]**

**XXXX**

Bright and early mornings was the way I started, not that she saw the sunrise. Artificial light and the sound of a red light alarm was what I had come to know. I didn't mind, and it wasn't like a fuss was going to change anything. I ate breakfast, and trained, regardless of my condition. Socialising wasn't permitted, and it had been so long ago that the next time I stepped out into the blundering, naivety of society, a lot of things were so vague and strange. No talking back, no talking at all, actually. I didn't mind that either, though giving up taste buds did seem to bother me a little.

Not that I said anything about it.

"Watch." Barthom said, as I attended him one-on-one training simulations. There was more people who were being trained, and not just me. But I never trained with them, and they never tried to hold a conversation, let alone _look_ in my direction. They were trained to fight. I was trained to achieve something more. Because, in retrospect - I'd been told, the information hammered into my head, over and over and over and over - they were henchmen. I was important, yet not. I was to be the cream on the sundae, but also the slimy leftovers once finishing. I was meant to be the anomaly in the system, one that it was wrong in it's ways.

His hands were alight with a bright flame, one that's purple flames melted into nothing once they strayed too far from his fingertips. Small flickers, and he could control them at will. Frivolous mine were, more prone to _snapping_ at people. I was sure that I was crazy, that having carnivorous mouths with rows upon rows of blender teeth was preposterous. hough, they were encouraging in the use of them. They never bit me though.

Though, they didn't listen either. They liked to squirm, to bite and tear flesh. And sometimes they spoke, but nobody else could hear them, and I never told anybody. I was so sure I was losing my mind. And something like that, it didn't surprise me. I should have done that sooner, and maybe if I had, I wouldn't have a nervous stomach. I'm glad that it did though. Feeling pain was better than feeling nothing at all. And all the rest of my emotions, they weren't mine at all. 'Cause if you had room for them, you weren't needed in their ranks. Being normal though, was bound to get you decapitated and/or buckshotted.

More surprisingly though, I was met by a small blond boy, who had a pair of striking blue eyes, almost as vibrant as my own, and a callous, smart-aleck smirk that matched his witt. He had a tick to the way he talked, and he was the first one out of the six children that I met, him being the third youngest while I was the oldest, at the age of nineteen. He always talked, never seemed to let the system get him down. While he talked about how I should have done this instead of that and that instead of a whole complicated twisting motion, I sat there during my lunch break and wished that he would never stop talking. I found that I lost my tongue whenever he argued with me. He was just that good of a soul. And as it turned out, I wasn't.

**XXXX**

Change shift.

Switching docks.

Changing channels.

_Click._

He felt like never leaving the room, or turning his back to her once she had him in her sights. The girl - _woman_, he corrected, the image of her swelling chest, the cause of his uncomfortableness - was hardly a chatterbox, and normally observed with sharp eyes, a cold and hollow demeanor surrounding the way she held herself. They were never to share their real names, his was a code, like the numbers behind his eyelids Garbett and hers _SB_, a strange code as vague as her mind, if he ever had a chance to read over it. She was wistful, but in a fighting situation everything that anyone could analyse her by disappeared as quickly as each fight persisted. Her stances changed each time, moves differentiating with each snapping bone. Like a tainted fire she bursted, unexpected and too dangerous for anyone lower than a C-level clearance to associate with. Her name made his lips tingle with a sharp twitch in his sides, and regrouping with the others was always an interesting meetup.

The six of them ate together, and slept in rooms next to one another, a few levels underground. Garbett's room was filled with mechanical books, and notebooks of small thoughts, on how to improve certain aspects of some guns. He liked the one Seras's had, a character from a manga series - he had the complete collection on the opposite bookshelf. The rooms, all of them never had windows, he always dreamed of the outside, but always found himself on high rate treadmills and oxygen masks.

"They made us go through the maze again." Lex frowned, eating her chicken burger with discontent, thinking that the fillet could have been more tender. Lettuce leaves wilted and fell onto her plate, dragged down by thick mayonnaise. Garbett's mouth made a grossed out croak, and he pushed away his lunch tray, instead drinking his no carb, no additive drink; sublimely coloured orange, it contrasted the other boy's purple shirt, who sat opposite Garbett. "My feet are fucking stinging. They decided to add electric plating into the floor, so that you can't pause." She bit into the burger again. "Fucking sucks."

He agreed with the mauve haired girl. She was probably the most outspoken out of the group, and maybe - not that he would ever admit it out loud - unbecoming. It was purely out of sheer luck of authority that she hadn't been hanged on one of the rose fences yet. Speaking of which, he had to clean them next week.

"You know, I still think though that if they put the reform chick in there, they'd get better results."

Their hooded friend sighed, his head moving, a bodily motion that suggested the rolling of eyes. He was a blunt dude. Rather quiet though. "They'd all be dead, so pray that the warden never heard that.

The collective silence was in agreement.

**XXXX**

My boss was a firm man, who's liked food and who had a receding hairline; despite this, it was slick and combed back, large hands intertwined, his office filled with the sound of a mall radio that sat on one of the shelves behind his desk. I had my uniform on. It was tight, and my shorts reached just above my knees. I didn't need the fascial attachments just yet, I was only going to talk to him.

Fair point to say though, I was a little nervous. I, admittedly, had never met him before. His office was above ground, and as I waited patiently for him to get back from a meeting, I watched hundreds of people on the streets, going about their everyday lives, my forehead pressed against the glass in an attempt to look down. I felt the sun's heat through my gloves, and smiled on the inside.

And now, I stood across from a man - just the two of us - in a room that was sealed. I couldn't leave till I had the document details, and I couldn't start the mission till they were burned or otherwise destroyed. My nerves turned quickly to annoyance as I noticed how odd, that what a _coincidence_ it was that my boss - the phrase leaving such a vile taste in the back of my throat - just so happened to look _a lot _like Mason's deadbeat father. I'd only ever met him once, when mother was pregnant, and after we moved away again, never to see him. I hated coincidences and never really believed in luck at all. Everything was tied together with an invisible string, and in my mind, that string was a dark, glowing red. And I could sever it, if I wished.

The file was about the size of the nail on my pinky finger, kept together by binding bands and a purple folder cover. I kept a straight face as he settled down.

"You are to do some recon and assassinations in Italy, okay? There's been some recent activity that has appeared and I wish to control that part of the mafia before they get too cocky. I want to keep the situation contained here, and for that to happen, we must eliminate and severely disfigure their social and economic system. By pushing them into a situation of corrupt hyperactivity, they will surely turn on their allies."

I nodded, understanding the severity of this job. He wanted his goods safe; in the long run, he wanted the domination he held on us to remain strong.

"Make sure you go unoticed, SB. You will keep in touch at the end of every week with a report."

One sharp, curt nod.

"This will be a long one, so pack your bags carefully."

I nodded again, and bowed.

"Oh, and before you leave, make sure you gather Lex for me. I wish to see her about an upcoming job that suits her skills."

**XXXX**

I had been poisoning him for weeks now, just as a precautionary measure, while other things sorted themselves out. There were other jobs, other problems to take care of but the man was the head of a family, a boss living in Sicily who had a fair hand in the making of exported and imported items, something that was bound to affect the standing economy.

Things were very different over here, than what I knew of back in the states. Different climate, of course, and tanning was definitely something that came easily, my pale skin not crawling towards the word _foreigner_ anymore. I'll admit that with the addition of some toned muscles, I collected ways of information that could be seen as sketchy. But they were good, some were, and I found that many civilians had inadvertent ties to the mafia - some husbands hiding the secret from their wives and vise versa. I spent a year weeding vials of corrupt data into their society, killing off discreetly and planning bigger hits. I killed a group of brothers, barely missing the last, and a woman who was sick enough without my hand's assistance.

While my eyes drooped after another day's work, I waited. Tomorrow I was to fly to Florence.

**XXXX**

The call was biting at my ear when I rolled over, reaching for my cell that was buzzing on the bedside table.

_It must be an international call_, I remember thinking as I rubbed my closed eyes, pulling the top edges of the covers up over my head. _It must be, no idiot would call at three in the morning. It must be from the boss_, I think afterwards. _Idiot, that's the only number in there._

I pressed the answer button, hearing the blaring signals in the background, and my boss panting. Running, maybe? But from what.

"Code blue-64." His voice said, as I heard other howling voices. "Lex got herself captured, the idiot, and ratted us out to the Vongola."

_Shit. _

"Take out their heads." He ordered. I heard a very violent shriek of acknowledgement, so loud I had to take the phone off speaker. "The old man and the boss in waiting. They're after me, so I don't know what's going to happen. Initiate code red-12 if this is the last correspondence. Rodger."

_Fucking Lex. You can't just shut up, can you._

The wooden floor was colder than I expected, but soon enough, I was in my pair of running shoes and armed, my weapons concealed.

_Can't have a peaceful night, can I?_

**XXXX**

**So, things are heating up, and next chapter we'll have some appearances, yay! I hope to shock y'all even more in this story. We'll see. ;D**

**Thanks to all the follows and faves, you are awesome.**

**Replies:**

**Marshi-a-mellow: Don't cry! I'd probably be sad if you did, then okay with it because that's a part of the story, so sorry. Jokes. Thanks for your review!**

**nata-choco: Oh, well that works too. Still, nachos and chocolate, you can't beat that combo. Yes she is, kinda? It definitely has elements of the previous story present, but it will be different in other ways too. And as for your other questions, I can't say. ;b**

**Ciaossu**

**-Verdigurl**


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